


Fly On The Wall

by StardustEcho



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, School Violence, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Build, abused!Stiles, police officer!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustEcho/pseuds/StardustEcho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was hardly anything left of the happy boy who used to run home from school everyday to hug his mom, or hardly anything left for anyone to see of the little boy who would curl up on his father's lap. Nothing was left but an empty shell of the teen who had done absolutely nothing to deserve the pain and suffering he'd been forced to endure for the last ten years. Hope was a foreign word that meant nothing to those lifeless eyes and love was something only mythology spoke of because surely these feelings had no place in their meaning for someone like him, someone who was so worthless and useless that after all these years no one could see just how badly he was suffering and come to save him, take his pain away and never ask for anything in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this story has been adopted from LieutenantTazer and previously was known as "Shattered In This Castle of Glass". With the previous authors blessing I will be reposting and completing this story in their place. Hopefully I can do it justice because, like the previous author, this too is my first Teen Wolf story. Chapters 1-7 will be LT's original work and after that I will take over. LT told me the original plan they had for this story, and I do plan sticking with it because it was freaking awesome! Keep your eyes peeled for Friday updates!

Tugging on his bike chain, making sure the lock looped around the links was secured, the teen stood up with some extra effort and turned to face his new school with an apprehensive look. The students bustled around him, not even noticing the new face on campus, completely ignoring him and his meager existence and if Stiles was being honest with himself he knew he would be happy to remain a shadow in the background. But he was being honest with himself today and a part of him did want to be noticed, wanted to be seen, heard; he just wanted someone to notice him. His honey glazed eyes tracked a student who was running towards him, a happy face and an arm raised in the air waving while calling out a friendly hello, and as he opened his mouth with a shy smile the student brushed past him, harshly knocking shoulders to dart behind him, meeting up with a group of guys gathered around a sports car.

Who was he kidding? This school, just like every other school he’d been to, was going to be exactly the same and he had only until lunch to prepare himself for the rest of the student body to figure out how much of a freak he really was and for the impending dark locker time, dumpster dives and toilet swirly. All he had to do was remind himself that this was his senior year, that this was it and that in just under nine months he would turn eighteen and he would be free. The idea of freedom left a clean taste in his mouth, like a cold glass of water, or after you just brushed your teeth. All he had to do was wait it out and pray that these next few months wouldn’t be the end of him.

The sad truth? It probably would. 

Adjusting the straps on his back pack, a ratty old thing he found left behind at a park—and for good reason too as the seams were coming apart and the straps were withered away to almost nothing—Stiles took a calming breath in and made his way up the front steps towards the front door with purposeful strides. Shoulders back, chest slightly out, and head held high he wasn’t about to show any fear to these strangers even if he was scared beyond belief. Standing inside Beacon Hills High School he glanced around the foyer when he realized one thing, realized this wasn’t his old school and the school’s office wasn’t right by the main doors and that he had absolutely no idea where to start looking. Reaching up to feel the straps of his back pack under his fingers, he pulled to hike his sack up higher on his shoulders and stood awkwardly in the center of the foyer as the rest of his classmates started filing in to head towards their first class.

The first bell rang and Stiles realized that he was the only one standing near the front doors, awkwardly glancing around in hopes that he would recognize a sign that would point him in the direction of the school office so he could pick up his class schedule, locker assignment, and hopefully find someone to show him around the maze that was Beacon Hills. The thought of poking his head into a classroom to ask a teacher proved too daunting, so there was no way that was happening. And just as he was about to give up and just wander aimlessly around the halls until a teacher found him or he actually found the office, the front doors burst open behind him with a loud bang and two students stumbled through the doors breathing hard. Both took a moment to take a breather, glancing at each other with mischievous smiles on their faces before they broke out laughing. Frozen stiff, his feet firmly rooted in the ground, Stiles wished he could just blend in and pray that the two boys wouldn’t notice him.

“Dude, we have got to stop sleeping in.” One boy panted harshly, his wavy sandy blonde hair bouncing with the natural flow of gravity as he bobbed his head. “Project or not, if mom get’s another call from the school about me skipping I’m so dead.”

The other boy forced himself to stand up, his head dropped back so he could force some calming breaths into his lungs. His shaggy mop of chocolate hair, slicked with sweat at the roots, flopped back with the force of his head dropping back. “Don’t worry; I’ll cover for you, Isaac. We should—“straightening his posture, the dark haired teens eyes locked on Stiles with a strange expression. “Hi?”

The other teen with him, Isaac, turned around to stare at Stiles with the same sort of confused expression. He tipped his head to the side and starred at Stiles with a questioning look on his face. His features were the first to smooth over, the other boy still rigid behind him as Isaac took a step forward with a slight smile tugging on his face. Holding his hand out, his face broke out into a friendly smile that made Stiles knees weak. “You must be new. I’m Isaac, and this is Scott.” Stiles tentatively reached out to touch palms with the other boy before jerking his hand back to curl around his back pack straps like Isaac’s touch burned his skin. Isaac’s frown returned, his mouth tugging downward and his eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Hi,” he replied curtly. Taking a small step back to put some distance between himself and Isaac, Stiles feet caught between his ankles forcing him to tumble and fall to the ground in a graceless heap. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from crying out from the pain radiating along his sides, he drew in on himself as the two teens surrounded him to gently pull him back up, brush him off and right his posture.

“Easy there, buddy, we don’t bite.” Scott’s hands were warm on his shoulders and Isaac’s were a welcomed weight in his hands, both offering steady support in keeping Stiles balanced.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.” Isaac’s eyes caught Scott’s over Stiles head, the two teen’s holding a silent conversation that made Stiles squirm in their grasp. Tugging free, he took a hasty few steps back and offered a meek smile.

“Sorry, I’m not very graceful. Would either of you two happen to know where the school office is?” Jumping out of his skin when the second bell rang, the apparent tardy bell as the other two teens groaned loudly, Stiles glanced around a few more times and realized that they were the only ones in the halls still. These two boys weren’t terribly large like some students he’d seen, but he was so scrawny and even just one of them could beat him up easily and with no teachers around there really wasn’t anyone to stop them if they wanted to harm him. 

“We’ll take you; we have to get tardy passes anyways.” Isaac’s hand came down to rest on Stiles shoulder to steer him into the opposite direction of the foyer, the other teen followed behind them. Stiles tried not to jump when Isaac touched him. Why were these two being so nice to him? How could they not see?

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Better to apologize than receive the repercussions.

“For what?” Isaac prodded when the smaller teen didn’t offer up an explanation.

“Making you guys late.”

“That was my fault,” Scott piped up from behind. “We were up late working on a project last night and I couldn’t wake myself up this morning.”

“Try any morning, this guy sleeps like a dead weight and snores louder than a bear.” Isaac laughed as they rounded a corner, the sign at the end of the hall indicating the school office, an immediately identifiable marking putting the brunette at ease that these two were actually helping him and not leading him out back to beat him up. “It’s amazing he actually shows up at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Scott huffed loudly as he stepped around the two and pushed the door open to the office where the sounds of phones ringing, a student speaking into a microphone discussing the morning announcements, and the principal in his office screaming at a poor student for their insubordination lifted to their ears. “Good morning, Mrs. G, you’re looking lovely as always.” Leaning against the counter Scott flirtatiously smiled down at the woman in her forties who in return was starring back up at him over the brim of her wire frame glasses.

“Good morning, Mr. McCall.” Mrs. Gardner responded in an annoyed manner, her hands absently reaching for the tardy slips near her keyboard. “Late as usual I see.”

“No, actually we found a new student and decided to show him around. You can’t reprimand us for trying to help out and be nice, can you?” Mrs. Gardner arched an eyebrow and glanced behind Scott to leer at Isaac and the boy beside him. “We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Hi,” he softly greeted while his ducked in submission. Taking a small step behind Isaac, Stiles eyes darted around the office noting all the exits and calculating his chances of just being able to run out of the building and begging to be placed into home schooling just once more. He could roll with the punches if it meant making his life somewhat easier. 

Mrs. Gardner handed a sheet of paper to Scott and nodded towards the teen behind him and went back to her work on the computer, ticking away at her keyboard. Scott glanced down at the sheet and smiled to himself seeing that the Stilinski kid had his first block with both he and Isaac in Chemistry, and then his second block was with Isaac in Calculus. The rest of his day was taken up by Government and then English. “Dude, you have one messed up schedule. Everything is all academic, no fun classes.”

Shrugging, Stiles reached out and took the sheet from the taller boy and glanced over it noting his locker number and the classes the school had assigned for him. At least his second semester looked a little more promising with the application of Physics, Anatomy, Physical Education, and a Criminology course. He just hoped that he wasn’t too far behind in his classes because failing wasn’t an option for him, anything lower than an “A” was greatly frowned upon at his house. Stiles felt Isaac lean over his shoulder to glance over his class sheet.

“We’ll take you to Chem.” Stiles hated the false sense of security that the other boys smile made him feel, even if he appeared to be one of the nice kids Stiles was all too familiar with how cruel others could be and that soon Isaac would be just like the rest of the student body, the rest of the people in Stiles’ life, and learn what a worthless piece of shit he really was. It truly was only a matter of time until these two turned against him. “It looks like you got the empty locker next to Lydia, lucky you.”

Mrs. Gardner finished filling out the late passes and handed the three slips to Scott with an annoyed smile on her face. “You three are already late, get to class.”

Isaac ushered Stiles out of the office door as Scott turned to wave goodbye to the office secretary. “See you tomorrow Mrs. G?”

Stiles heard the faint “I hope not.” Stiles laughed to himself at the tone of her voice. He hoped these two wouldn’t turn out to be like everyone else as he was starting to actually come to like them as people, as… he dare not think the word. Walking silently between Isaac and Scott, who were chatting wildly about some after school practice and only when he realized that they had gotten quiet was when he realized they started talking to him. “What?”

“You play, Space Cadet?” Scott teased with a smile on his face.

“Scott,” Isaac reprimanded with a hearty glare and a none too gentle punch to the shoulder.

“Play what?” Stiles prodded, hoping they wouldn’t become annoyed with him for tuning them out. God forbid Isaac would turn that fist against him. 

“Lacrosse, it’s the favored sport here at Beacon Hills since over the last six years we’ve made state champions.” Scott playfully knocked shoulders with Stiles, making the small boy falter in his steps. Isaac’s hand shot out to steady him. “You play?” Scott ducked his head in apology.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not allow—I’m not any good at sports. I have zero hand-eye coordination and I am really clumsy.” Scott muttered louder than he meant to and Stiles heard every word.

Yeah, not very graceful.

Isaac shot a glare at the other boy. “So what sort of clubs were you involved in at your other school if you didn’t play sports?”

Stiles kept his eyes trained forwards, not permitting himself to look down and show anymore weakness of fear to these two teens. Opting for a half truth, not admitting that he wasn’t allowed to participate in school activities, he took a steady breath in before speaking. “I like to stay focused in my studies.” Isaac tipped his head again in confusion. Scott slowly nodded like he didn’t believe him. How could they know he was lying?

Not even bothering to knock on the classroom door before thrusting it open, Scott took the first few strides into the classroom with his hand up waving at their teacher who stood exasperated at the front of the room. “It’s so good of you to join us this morning, Mr. McCall.” Mr. Harris drawled, his dominant hand coming up to rub tiredly at his temple. “Mr. Lahey, I hope your association with Mr. McCall doesn’t start to affect your academic performance.”

“No worries here, Mr. Harris.” Isaac dismissively said as he took his seat next to Scott at their lab table leaving Stiles to stand awkwardly at the door.

“And you must be Ge—“

“Just call me Stiles!” He hurriedly interrupted, earning himself a scowl from the teacher. A great way to start out his new school, pissing off the teacher before he even got his desk assignment. A round of chuckles lifted to his ears, his fellow classmates laughing at his outburst and their teacher’s obvious distaste for the new student.

Mr. Harris shook his head and turned back to the whiteboard in the front of the room. “Take a seat next to Ms. Martin, Mr. Stilinski and let’s hope your taste in new friends improves over the semester. I would hate for you to fall into the bad patterns Mr. McCall has obtained over the years.” A few more chuckles erupted from some of the students who were looking at Scott, grinning like idiots.

As Mr. Harris proceeded to write on the whiteboard Stiles awkwardly glanced around the room wondering who Ms. Martin was so he could take his seat and drown in his self pity in his seat rather than uncomfortably stand in the entryway of the classroom. Someone cleared their throat at the desk in the far back corner of the classroom, forcing the teens eyes up to stare at the lovely jade pair of eyes sparkling his way. She was gorgeous and pointing to the seat next to her with a smile on her face. Hastily making his way to his seat, Stiles was never so happy to sit down than he was right now because finally everyone stopped looking at him and returned to their notes on the board that they probably were supposed to be copying down. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Mr. Harris doesn’t hate you, he hates all students. Just try to show up to class on time, do the homework and attempt to not ask ridiculous questions and you may just get along with him.” Scooting closer so they could share her text book, Stiles realized that he didn’t even know her first name. Glancing to her open folder, he noted a class worksheet that had her name written in her loopy, girly scrawl at the header.

“Thanks Lydia,” he smiled shyly.

Her returning smile was infectious. “Not a problem, Stiles.”

~*~*~

Stiles had to admit that this was the weirdest school he’d ever been to. It was already lunch and he hadn’t gotten beaten up or shoved into a locker. What was even weirder was that Lydia had attached herself to his side and stuck like glue for the entire morning. They shared the same class schedule and were next to each other by their lockers, which was alright for now since she appeared to be the sweetest girl out of the whole school. Her boyfriend was a tool, but Stiles had come to learn over the years that most jocks were and that girls were usually drawn to the bad-boy types and while Jackson appeared to be an ass to everyone around him, Stiles could tell that he was nothing short of a gentleman towards her. And since Lydia dubbed Stiles her new best friend, by proxy Jackson was his new, unofficial big brother and no one dared to say anything when he tripped over his own feet in Calculus class in second block.

“Did you bring money for lunch or did you pack today?” Lydia’s arms were curled around each of theirs as she walked between the two boys towards their lockers. Jackson’s locker was right next to Lydia’s. Stiles faltered in his steps, his arm jerking from Lydia’s loose grip as his feet paused midstride forcing the couple to turn and look at him. “Stiles, are you alright?”

He’d never had to sit with others during lunch, at least others who seemed to care if he actually ate during lunch hour. Adjusting his shoulder straps on his shoulders, the weight suddenly lessened as the old seams finally broke spilling the contents of his back pack onto the floor. Swearing under his breath, Stiles dropped to his knees to quickly pull his school belongings into a messy pile before him, hoping that none of the other students would kick his things across the hall. Jackson appeared next to him, helping by handing Stiles his text book and two pens that skittered across the floor. Even Lydia squatted down to hand him the packet they had received in chemistry that morning for homework.

Standing with all his belongings secured in his arms, Stiles ducked past the two and rushed to his locker. Oddly balancing his things in his scrawny arm, and reaching out with the tips of his fingers to twist the dial on his lock, Stiles sighed in frustration when the lock refused to open. “Easy there, sport.” Lydia’s hands reached out to steady his shaking ones as Jackson proceeded to unlock Stiles locker with ease. He wondered how the teen knew his combination, but refused to ask in favor of hoping they wouldn’t suddenly start making fun of him.

“Stiles, you’re shaking. Are you alright?” Lydia frowned when the brunette jerked out of her hold to quickly place his things at the base of his locker. Once everything was safely in his locker, he took a cursory glance down the hall to make sure nothing was left behind. “Stiles?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I guess it finally broke.” He’d have to go snooping through the lost and found after school and hopefully find something that he could use that would be suitable and not make it look like he stole something. He didn’t need to draw any more attention to himself at home.

“That thing was ancient,” Jackson joked with a smile on his face as he turned to his own locker to pull drop off his bag.

“Ah, yeah…” Rubbing the back of his head, Stiles jumped when a back pack was dropped into his hands. It was blue in color mostly with light grey and black accents, making it look sleek and sporty. The NorthFace insignia on the strap made him realize just how expensive the bag he was holding really was. Starring up at Jackson with a confused look on his face, all the teen received was a nonchalant shrug. “Jackson?”

“It’s an extra I’ve had in my locker for a while. I use it sometimes for clothes when I stay at Lydia’s house for the night.” The two shared a wink before Jackson passively brought her body against his own, dropping a few kisses to her exposed neck. “My god you smell amazing.” He whispered making Stiles blush. “You can have it, I have a ton. That was my bag from freshman year; it’s seriously not a problem.” Waving off Stiles objection before it could even come out of his mouth, the blonde turned to head towards the cafeteria calling over his shoulder that he’d save them some seats.

“It’s Jackson amazing?” Lydia swooned as she dropped her shoulder bag into her locker. “Blue really is your color, Stiles. You should let me take you clothes shopping.” Her smile didn’t falter as her eyes raked up and down his body taking in his second hand, tattered clothes. Trying not to feel small under her gaze, Stile shut his locker door and turned so she could latch onto his arm once again. The weight of both of her arms around his own was warm, radiating towards his core and calming his jittery nerves almost instantly.

It was weird, the effect the students had on him here at this school. All morning Lydia had been offering reassuring touches, kind words of encouragement, and the warmest smiles Stiles had ever seen and his body was eating up the attention like it was oxygen. Jackson, who appeared to be an ass to everyone around them, had treated him like an equal, like a brother, a friend, something that he hadn’t felt in the longest time and the boys steady presence around them in between classes was almost just as comforting as Lydia’s tender touches. Then there was Isaac and Scott, two of the weirdest characters he’d set eyes on, but they felt like the older brothers he’s never had but always wanted. The warm feelings these four were making him feeling left him unsettled and more confused than ever. Why were they being so nice? How did they even notice him out of everyone else in this school? What was their ulterior motive? Surely they didn’t plan this out before meeting him that they were going to worm their way close to his heart, get closer than anyone ever had before and then rip the rug out from under his feet.

“Sit down,” Lydia patted the seat next to her as she gracefully took a seat next to Jackson and plucked an apple off his tray. “It’s better to wait for the lunch lie to die down.” Across from her was Isaac, Scott and some pretty brunette named Allison who Scott was making goo-goo eyes at and nuzzling into her side like an oversized teddy bear. She seemed annoyed, not at Stiles but at Scott who looked like he was enjoying smelling her far too much. “Guys, this is my new best friend. Stiles, this is everyone.”

A girl plopped down beside him, drawing his attention away from Scott and Allison. She was gorgeous too, long dark brown hair and equally dark brown eyes that stuck out like a bright color against her olive skin tone. “Hi cutie,” she smiled cheekily. Ruffling his hair with her hand she leaned in close to press a wet kiss to his temple.

A few more students sat at their table and before Stiles was aware there were more friendly people surrounding him than he had ever remembered. “That’s Cora and Danny.” She whispered into his ear while pointing to each person who sat down with their lunches at the table, offering him a small wave before turning to the person next to them and chatting away happily.

His heart thundered loudly in his chest, so loud he was pretty sure he could hear it and the blood rushing behind his ears. His chest tightened and he could feel his accessory muscles working in time with his body to force oxygen into his lungs before his body submitted to a panic attack in front of these people who had only been kind to him on his first day. Maybe they were just really nice people and that they would continue to be nice to him the remainder of the year. He could dream, but that meant he had to calm down and pretend to be the strong, awkward teenager they met today, not the weak, worthless piece of shit who was just fading through life. His abdominal muscles tightened, his stomach rolling with the effort to pull oxygen into his body before he passed out. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he felt Jackson and Isaac’s watchful eyes lingering on him; almost like they knew.

A warm hand slipped into his own under the table, grounding the teen and bringing his conscious back to the lunch conversation—something about the upcoming game this Friday and how there was so much pressure on the whole team. Jerking his head to stare at Lydia’s warm face, he melted momentarily as she stood up, drawing him with her by their connected hands. “Let’s get lunch, Stiles.” Pushing him in front of her and handing him a maroon tray from the lunch line she nudged him down the whole line, filling his plate with a hearty turkey sandwich—complete with a little mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato and red onion—as well as a bag of Doritos, an apple and then one of the large chocolate chip cookies at the end of the line while fixing herself a grilled chicken salad and grabbing some sliced peaches. At the end of the line she got herself and Stiles a coke and stepped around him to pay for her own and walking out to head back to their table.

The cashier looked at him expectantly and for a moment Stiles panicked, knowing he had zero cash to pay for this lunch. Just as the cashier was about to haul him to the side his hand clenched tighter around his tray causing a light brushing of paper to tickle his palm. Looking down to the hand Lydia had grabbed, he starred in a confused manner at the twenty-dollar bill. The cashier leaned forward and took the twenty from him, exchanging it out for his change and dropping eighteen dollars back into his hand. She ushered him out of the lunch line and shut the door with a resonating slam. No one seemed to noticed in the lunch room, the rest of his classmates carrying on with their conversations and still not noticing him. He glanced around until he saw Jackson wave him back over to their table along the wall of windows with a smile, giving his feet the courage to close the distance and take his seat once again next to Lydia.

Once seated, her hand sought out his own once again under the table as she leaned in so her lips were pressed against the shell of his ear. “Eat something, you’re way to skinny.” Stiles swore her lips pressed against his skin in a soft kiss before returning to her conversation with Danny and Jackson. Her free hand worked her fork with ease, stabbing small bites of lettuce, bacon, grilled chicken, and other salad fixing onto the prongs and taking mouth savoring bites. Stiles hand unconsciously curled tighter around hers while his non-dominant hand reached clumsily for the turkey sandwich the lunch lady had cut for him. His fingers were shaking, the brunette was pretty sure Danny noted their tremble from across him, but he was able to loosely grip his sandwich and take a mouthwatering bite, his senses forgetting what actual food tasted like over the last few days.

When lunch was over, and everyone disappeared off into their separate ways, Lydia leg him to Government class with Jackson and sat him next to her, Jackson taking the seat immediately across from them. His stomach was full, he’d only been able to eat half of his sandwich and a few bites of his cookie, but in his locker he had the left over’s sealed in a few of Isaac’s plastic lunch bags to save for later. He wanted to cry for how safe everyone was making him feel and at the same time cry out in insanity because this kind of charity always came with a price and he was desperate to know what it was. Surely, whatever it was, it would crush him upon impact and leave him shattered.

~*~*~

He wanted to stay and watch the lacrosse team practice with Lydia, Cora and Allison, who all swore that it was close to watching porn on the internet sometimes. He had no idea what that was like and had to respectfully decline in favor of getting home to work on his homework that was due by the end of the week. He’d only missed the first month of school, had four weeks’ worth of homework to complete and turned in by Friday. He could do it, he knew he could, but once he walked through the side door into his new house in Beacon Hills he knew tonight he wouldn’t get much done with a hand came out of nowhere, harshly throwing him against the wall and forcing a cry to fall from his lips as the pain that had dulled over the day erupted tenfold in his sides.

He knew better than to fight back, it was always better to opt with the truth and wait out the anger until he could scurry away and hide in his room. “Whose book bag did you steal?” Hot breath wafted over his skin, making him shiver in cold fear. This was what he wanted to avoid.

“They gave it to me!” He loudly protested as best he could with his face shoved roughly into the drywall of their kitchen.

“Who would take pity on someone like you?” His hand was wrenched around behind him, his elbow bent at a bad angle with his wrist turned out, forcing the teen up onto his toes to alleviate some of the pain. “No one cares about you. This person was only feeling sorry for a worthless piece of shit like you!”

Tears streamed down his face; because how could he tell his uncle that he really didn’t think Jackson pitied him? How could he explain the warm feelings the other students left in him when he couldn’t even explain it to himself? “I’m sorry,” he whimpered hoping that his uncle would let his wrist go before his weak bones snapped under the pressure.

His uncle growled loudly in his ear before forcefully pushing off his nephew and moving back into the living room. “I leave for work at seven, make me dinner.” Stiles didn’t hesitate to start making his uncle something before he left for the station, not wanting to anger the larger man any more than he already had.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles had a hard time believing it was Friday already and not once had anyone tried to bully him into submission, try to beat him up and stuff his small body into a locker, dump him into a trashcan or submerge his head in the boy’s toilets. In fact, everyone had been sickeningly nice to him and a part of his thoughts deviated to the darkness where he wished it would just go back to the old ways, wished they would turn on him and thrust him into a locker because that was something he understood. He understood pain and what it did to his body, understood how to deal with bullies and knew that there was nothing he could do about it but when these students surrounded him, smiling… laughing… he had no idea how to react and often found himself even more scared of the unknown that was constantly surrounding him.

Lydia was a small ray of sunshine on a rainy afternoon. She had her up’s and down’s like every teenage girl did—having Jackson around didn’t seemed to help her mood swings much either sometimes—but her presence was warm, inviting and always so tender that every time her fingers touched Stiles’ body it felt like a flutter of butterfly wings. Not only was she friendly to Stiles but also she was smart as hell and could spit out mathematical outputs faster than he usually could. In Calculus, the two were neck and neck usually when released to fill in their worksheets before the end of the class. Sometimes Isaac worked in with them; their small group something to marvel but every so often Lydia was pause to explain an equation to the wavy haired blonde. Lydia was friendly to those that were close to her, smart and drop dead gorgeous; it was no wonder Jackson was so in love with her.

But Lydia wasn’t at school today, something about having an interview for a college that wanted to pay her to go into their university, and for the most of the day he found himself getting to know Jackson. He figured that since Lydia wasn’t going to be following him around that Jackson would just go off with Danny and leave him be, but he was wrong and when the lacrosse captain leaned against his girlfriends locker to talk to Stiles in the morning before first block the teen had to admit he was more than surprised. Even Danny who stopped by treated him no differently and tried to get him to understand the concept of an exploding fist-bump. The two teens found it amusing that Stiles had no idea what the purpose was of this sort of thing, but when Jackson and he parted ways with Danny the teen’s hand crept up to his shoulder to steer him into Chemistry. They were just being friendly, acting as friends with each other and Stiles had completely missed when that happened, missed when he became friends with these people.

Jackson himself was a hard person to understand. He was a typical jock, no questions about that, with a rich-boy complex that entitled him to the coolest kid in school title. He drove a Porsche for crying out loud! It didn’t matter that his daddy bought it for him; it came down to the fact that he was a high school student driving a Porsche and turned out to be one of the nice kids. He was pretty sure Lydia would maim Jackson—boyfriend or not—if the blonde harmed a single hair on his head, but after a few lunch periods with the guy Stiles was sure that the whole stuck up and macho behavior was nothing but a show, that Lydia was the only one to truly know just how tender he really was on the inside. He acted out to protect himself from anyone else who wanted to use his insecurities against him and wore a fitted mask to hide who he really was. Stiles understood and admired Jackson for being able to accomplish something he never could.

After school Lydia found Stiles in the parking lot by his bike. “How did it go?” He was confused as to why she was here since the game didn’t start till later that evening and she hadn’t been at school all day, but her smiling face and Beacon Hill’s Bulldogs attire was something to admire and fear at the same time. Maybe there was a game tonight and she was here to watch Jackson play? 

“They loved me,” the unspoken who wouldn’t didn’t need to be said and Stiles knew she had other interviews set up for other prestigious schools around the nation in the following months. Her look suddenly intensified as her keys magically appeared out of nowhere. “Leave your bike, let’s go.”

“Go?” Stiles jumped when her delicate fingers encircled his wrist. Jerking out of her gentle hold, he took a hesitant step back. He hated the way his mind would revert to the dark place deep within his mind because he knew – he wasn’t sure how, but he did – that Lydia would never hurt him, but a part of him was still leery of these new people. 

Stiles knew just how cruel people could be, and just how quickly they could turn against you. 

“Yeah, you and I are heading over to Jackson’s to get you something to wear for tonight.” Her smile permeated his dark thoughts, bright and warm as ever. Even though he jerked from her grasp, she still was the same Lydia. 

“Tonight?” 

Reaching out to grab his hand again, Lydia pulled Stiles over to her silver Mercedes and pushed his school back into the backseat next to her designer purse, his body willingly following her lead. A honk caught Lydia’s attention; a car idling directly behind hers was drawing her attention to the incredibly gorgeous brunette in the driver’s seat and Cora’s petite frame in the passengers. The red head strawberry blonde—he learned the hard way on that, who knew that one color could have so many different names—sought out his hand and pulled the stumbling teen up to the side of the sporty, candy apple red mustang. The driver lowered her sunglasses to smile brightly up at Lydia, her sparkling white teeth almost blinding in the sunlight. 

“Lydia, you look adorable today.” Stiles thought this dark haired woman looked predatory, the way her lips were pulled back ever so slightly around her incredibly white teeth. 

“How’d the interview go?” Cora half crawled over the center to poke her head out beside the drivers, her own matching dark eyes sparkling up at the two of them. Stiles was positive that if the angle of her cheer uniform was any lower he’d be able to see her boobs. Biting his lip, he took a half step back, suddenly uncomfortable. He really just wanted to get to his bike and get home. Why was Lydia doing this to him?

Lydia rolled her eyes and twirled a piece of her long strawberry blonde hair around her index finger. Her smile was feral and everything about her screamed victory. Looking up, she made a face and the two girls in the car squealed in excitement. “Lydia, please tell me you’re going to accept an offer soon so these schools can stop falling all over you.”

The driver lowered her glasses a bit more, her nostrils flaring for a brief moment as her eyes raked over Stiles body. He felt incredibly small in her gaze and as badly as his body told him to run away, that his girl appeared to be more trouble than anticipated, but the more his body told him to run the more his mind said to stay. Their eyes met for a brief moment, his honey eyes meeting her dark orbs before jerking to break the contact to stare interestedly at his shoes where he could feel a hole wearing through the aged fabric. 

“Who is this?” Stiles could barely hear her gentle words over the blood rushing behind his ears. 

“That’s Stiles,” Cora piped cheerfully. Her sparkling eyes catching the sun’s glint, drawing the teen’s attention from the forming hole in his shoe to his classmate. “He’s the new kid I was telling you about.”

Lydia wrapped her arm protectively around Stiles’ shoulders for a moment until a flicker of something passed over the drivers face, it was only a brief moment but it was there and the tension suddenly dropped from Lydia’s hand and Cora’s face.

“So this is Stiles.” The predatory sense about the driver suddenly disappeared, replaced by a welcoming presence that radiated confidence. It reminded him of how he felt around Lydia; only this time this woman also offered a sense of security. A part of Stiles believed that if something were to suddenly happen, that his woman would protect him the same as she would Cora and Lydia. 

“Hi,” he softly whispered over the rush of the afterschool bustle of rushing cars and students racing to get home to prepare for the evenings game. It was amazing she heard it as he could barely hear his own voice over the chaos, though the responding smile was enough to pacify him. The teen brought his hand up to awkwardly wave, hoping the tremor in his fingers would go unnoticed by this new face.

“He is adorable, Cora.” The three girls shared a look that went over Stiles’ head.

“This is my older sister, Laura; she works at Beacon Hills Fire Department and as a nurse in the emergency room.” Cora’s beam only seemed to grow as she gushed on about her cool, older sister. A thought struck the boy in the head.

“You know my uncle,” he wished his voice was louder, more assertive, but with the reminder of his ever loving uncle his heart rate seemed to pick up uncontrollably, the sound of rushing blood behind his ears picked up again. Even the mention of his supposed caregiver was enough to remind him that he needed to get home and make the house spotless before his uncle got home in the morning from his 24-shift. Laura hummed in thought. “Michael Stilinski, he just transferred to Beacon Hills Fire Department from San Francisco Fire last week.”

“Oh, the chief’s brother!” Laura exclaimed loudly. Her hand shot up to pull off the sunglasses on her face to really take in the scrawny teen before her. “Now that you mention it, you kind of look like your other uncle more than Mike. Your Uncle John, though he’s never mentioned having a nephew or another brother before.”

“Laura, maybe Chief Stilinski doesn’t like talking about his family much anymore after what happened.” Cora elbowed her sister roughly in the side. 

If he thought his heart was being fast before, his valves were thundering now, pumping blood through his veins faster with every passing second at the idea that the chief was his uncles other brother, his… “I have to go!” Jerking out of Lydia’s arm, Stiles took a few hasty steps back away from the three girls.

“Stiles!”

“I have to go, sorry Lydia. Nice to meet you Laura!” Reaching through the open window of the backseat to Lydia’s Mercedes to lift his book-bag up onto his shoulders, looping his arms hastily through the straps and missing a few times he ultimately gave up and dropped the bag onto the ground. He turned back to the three with an apologetic look and darted towards his bike yelling an apology over his shoulder. He had to get away, had to get home. Fumbling with his bike chain, he chanced a look over to the three girls crowded around the fiery Mustang and winced as they were talking, obviously about him and his fucked up ways, and throwing weird looks in his direction. Cursing when he realized his key for his lock was in his back-pack, which currently lay in the backseat of Lydia’s Mercedes after the girl had picked it up and placed it back in the back, he pushed away from the bike rack with more force than his small body could handle and tripped. Bouncing back up quickly, Stiles beat feet and ran all the way home leaving the three girls behind with sad, confused faces.

~*~*~

He grumbled under his breath as he watched the parents, friends and families of Beacon Hill’s pour into the stadium. He loved his job, he really did but picking up these extra shifts to act as official security on behalf of the Beacon Hills Police Department made the officer want to cringe internally. He was the lowest man on the totem pole at the department, the most recent one to get hired in, and always got stuck at the family events where there was sure to be screaming children that had zero discipline on proper public manners, loud and rowdy teenagers who he frequently found under the bleachers bumping uglies and in some very compromising positions, and parents who were more absorbed into themselves or their phones than actually paying attention to what their kids were doing around them. Working the school games was like glorified babysitting—his job was glorified babysitting really, but that was beside the point—but most nights he could just relax back and watch the game like every other spectator.

His youngest sister was on the cheerleading squad, a happy and bubbly teen with more spirit in her than anyone he’s ever met. Cora always had a way with movement, excelling in dance lessons and gymnastic classes and found a spotlight when it came to cheerleading, her bright spirit shining like a LED light in the dark. Game nights weren’t so bad when he could watch her do what she loved, it was mesmerizing and he envied how she found her calling at such a young age. Watching her now, a warm smile crept over his face, his inner wolf bristling with pride.

Even Isaac, the youngest Hale by adoption and two months difference from Cora, had grown since being adopted into the family into one of the finest young men Derek had ever met. Most teenage boys his age were rude, loud and utterly disrespectful but Isaac was calm, polite, and always willing to go the extra mile when it came to helping out the pack or even one of his friends. He just wished that his younger brother had found a better friend in someone else who wasn’t so hung up on his Sergeant’s daughter, someone who wasn’t such a slacker, someone who wasn’t Scott McCall. Derek just wanted to watch his little brother play and his sister cheer; not deal with this kid.

“I swear Derek; I owe you big time for this.” Resisting the urge to round on the teen, Derek held himself together long enough to pop open Scott’s truck door and wiggle the rod into the small space to unlock the teen’s vehicle. He considered letting the teen go thirsty all night, being dumb enough to leave his own keys and water bottle inside his truck but reluctantly decided to open the teen’s truck seeing as how he’d have to do it later and the officer wanted to actually be home at a reasonable hour that night. The lock lodged itself the unlocked position and Scott quickly pulled his door open. Climbing in, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and reached into the center to pull his water bottle free, the teen climbed out and shut the door.

Derek growled, catching the absentminded teen’s attention, and pointed with his eyes to the driver’s seat where Scott’s keys lay in the crevice of the seat and the back, shining reflectively under the beam of his LED flashlight. Clearing his throat, the officer rolled his eyes, exasperated and turned on his heel to stalk away, uncaring if Scott locks his keys in there another time. He hoped the teen would have enough sense to grab them this time before locking up his vehicle. 

Walking back up to the stadium, looking forward to catch the opening pitch of the second half after missing nearly the entire half time show, the brunette’s eyes tracked the shadow moments along the cars.  
He paused, catching a weird scent in the air, something he’d smelled earlier the week before that made his stomach churn and twist with bile. Moving with absolute certainty, his senses honing in on Lydia’s Mercedes and the strange shadow peeking into the back window, Derek’s inner wolf growled at the blatant disrespect for one of his own and moved in so fast that the person peeking into her back window never saw him coming. 

There was a loud squeak, a cry of pain as he manhandled the boy to the ground, forcing his face into the grass and slapping a pair of cuffs around the kid’s incredibly narrow wrists. The boy smelled off before a synthetic smell invaded his senses, a smell that wasn’t normal coated the boy’s emotions and clouding Derek’s capabilities to sense the fear wafting off of him. If not for the drastic spike in the child’s heartbeat, Derek would have thought he was completely calm in the struggle. This wasn’t right, something was wrong with this kid and the wolf inside of him was dying to know what the sickly smell was.

Roughly hauling the teen up, flattening him out over the trunk of Lydia’s expensive car and mindful of the girls paint job and careful dealership detailing Derek adjusted the cuffs around the teen’s wrists, double locking them to restrict involuntary tightening. Growling in the teen’s ear, a soft warning growl, his wolf took pride in the visible trembling radiating off the teen. Patting along the boy’s body, cringing at the teen’s body frame underneath the large hoodie and baggy jeans, Derek rolled the boy’s body around so he could look into the face and… not see a familiar student who he usually caught doing this.

His face was angular sharp, bony around the angle of the jaw and chin with hardly an extra ounce of fat to puff out his cheeks like the rest of the teenagers that attended BHSH, his orbits sunken in and tired dark and his bottom lip had a nasty split that could have been caused in their tussle, but a small part of the wolf believed that the busted lip was there long before Derek put his hands on the boy. There was dirt smears and grass stains coloring his skin, hiding the pale sickly color, and there was also blood and as much as he wanted to panic that he’d seriously hurt this boy he knew that most of the bloodied smell was on the teen before his hands were upon his body. Looking down at him, taking in the baggy jeans and the large hoodie, Derek realized that he couldn’t see the lines of the teen’s body as well as he should have. God, this kid is thin.

“Who are you?” He growled as he pulled the boy back up to his feet so he could properly talk to the teen. The boy refused to look up at the officer, not out of disrespect but more out of fear it seemed, keeping his head bowed down low and starring at his shoes where a hole was wearing through on the toe. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“S-St-S—“

Frowning as he watched the tremors radiate off his small frame, Derek gently pushed the teen back to lean against the hood of Lydia’s car, smelling something was wrong the moment the breeze picked up around them. The crowd roared in the background, the Bulldogs had scored from the sound of it. “Hey, take it easy.” Not risking the chance that he’d run the moment that Derek took the cuffs off—not that he couldn’t catch the little guy, his wolf was chomping at the bit for a good foot pursuit—he instead reached out to offer a grounding hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Hey, you alright?”

The boy nodded as Derek tipped his head back, inspecting the boys face and scowling at the busted lip marring his angular features. He was skinny, so skinny that a part of Derek didn’t want to touch him in fear that he’d break under his ministrations. Maybe that’s why his smell was so off, it was possible that this kid was sick with something and his body was deteriorating into nothing from the disease. He’d smelled it a few times when visiting his sister in the hospital, the different stenches of cancers and other diseases, infections, but nothing in his scent memory bank compared to the smell of the teen in front of him. Usually he could smell the person’s own scent signature under the guise of the illness, but with this teen there was nothing, just the stench of illness. “What is your name?”

The teen took a calming breath, holding it in his lungs longer than Derek felt necessary, before blowing it out slowly through his nose. His mouth moved, as if trying to remember how to use his words, lips forming around unknown syllables trying to produce words that sounded coherent. “Stiles Stilinski,” he said fearfully. 

Derek’s eyes widened. “Are you related to our chief?” The name Stilinski was unique in of itself, and the only Stilinski’s in Beacon Hills were direct relatives of his chief. The teen shrugged, his head dropping back down to look at his shoes and the new grass stain above his torn knee. This was beyond ridiculous! Derek was missing the game to play 21-Questions with this kid who was hardly offering any answers in return. He had half a mind just to arrest him for trying to break into Lydia’s car, but that would be a lot of paperwork. It’s not that he’s lazy he’d just rather watch the game. “Ok, what were you doing?”

Stiles rolled his wrists, hating the feeling of the metal rubbing against the bony knobs of his wrist bones. “I was hoping she left her car unlocked so I could get my school bag.” Stiles looked through the windshield at the blue NorthFace book-bag in the back seat and glanced back to the officer with a frown on his face. “I left my school bag here earlier by mistake, my house keys, wallet, and homework is in there. I didn’t have any money to get into the game, otherwise I would have just asked her to get it for me. I’m really sorry sir.”

It wasn’t a lie; the kid’s rapid but steady heartbeat confirming his story for the officer. “Alright,” he grumbled. Pulling the teen away from Lydia’s car Derek turned him around with a gentle force and bent him forward over the hood of Lydia’s Mercedes once more. His flashlight cradled in the crook of his shoulder, held firm by his neck, the beam shone brightly on Stiles’ incredibly small and bony hands. His fingers were curled in, protecting his palms and giving Derek a perfect view of a few split knuckles. The blood was dried. There were even scrapes on the child’s palms. Opening up one of the wrist cuffs, the officer cringed at the bruising around the teen’s wrists that seemed to travel up his arms, disappearing into the darkness of his hoodie. Standing back to place his cuffs back into their case on his duty belt, Derek steered Stiles’ reluctant body into the stadium.

He noticed how the fast movements made the boy jump, how any time someone bumped into him, his gait would falter forcing Derek to reach out and catch him, and how his eyes would track the stadium food the spectators were eating with envious eyes. It wasn’t long until they found Lydia and the usual group of friends the girl hung out with, crowded around the student section, donning their school spirit apparel. It was Allison who saw them first, turning to get Lydia’s attention and point down to the sidewalk where Derek stood with Stiles. The officer nodded to his sister Laura who was chatting with his shift supervisor, Chris Argent, and also to Chris.

“Stiles!” Lydia pulled the trembling teen into a hug, tucking his head into her body and drawing him closer. Derek noted the visible tension in the teen’s posture at her touch, noticed how he seemed to favor his one side when her hand came down to support him, and hated how there was just something terribly off with this kid. He didn’t have enough to undoubtedly suspect any violence had been inflicted onto this kid, he needed just a bit more evidence than that, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on this kid. He’d talk to the school resource officer on Monday, get the whole story on this kid before he made any decisions about whether or not to make a house visit and see exactly what was going on. “What happened to—oh honey, let’s have you sit down.”

“I caught him by your car, Lydia. It looked like he was trying to break in. He was looking for his school bag.” The unspoken take care of him was evident in the alpha’s voice before he turned to catch the last few minutes of the final quarter. 

Leaning against the fence, looking out onto the field watching Isaac pass to Jackson who scored, he realized he couldn’t focus on the game as much as he’d like to with the disturbing sight of Stiles’ body and the sickly scent that wafted off of him. He’d rather watch Cora, even Isaac, but Stiles’ sad face was seared into his mind and when Scott passed to Jackson who scored the final goal, winning the game with a crushing 15-2 win, he couldn’t find it in himself to cheer with the rest of the crowd at the obvious victory.

“You smelled it too,” Laura appeared by his side. She leaned into him, her reassuring weight settling into his wolf, calming him somewhat with her own alpha presence. It was chaos on the field, the players bouncing around in their victory, the cheerleaders cheering along with them and the fans rushing the field to congratulate the players. “I don’t know what it is either.”

Derek nodded and glanced over his shoulder to see only Allison and her dad left sitting in the bleachers, Stiles and Lydia were nowhere to be seen. “Something isn’t right with him,” Derek whispered lowly when a few parents started pushing past them to head out to their cars and leave for the evening.

“He’s sick, Derek—“

“Yeah, and he’s got marks all over him too. Someone has been working this kid over for a while now.” He noticed Cora and Isaac running up to them. A small smile morphed his face from the sad expression to a warm one when he pulled Isaac into an awkward hug over the fence. “Good job!”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” the two cubs looked at her with a weird expression before nodding in understanding. Derek nodded too. 

Scott wandered up to the group, a cheeky smile plastered over his face when he came to stand next to Derek. The wolf internally growled, making his siblings chuckle, before turning to glare down at the beta with an amused look on his face. Taking in the boy’s apologetic stance, the shy smile, and shifty feet, the alpha roared in annoyance hating that a kid so inattentive was turned and now a part of their pack. "Scott!" The beta winced and waited patiently for Derek to walk out to his truck with him to unlock the vehicle once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the lunch line behind Lydia Monday afternoon, Stiles limped a few steps forwards as the line moved closer into the back kitchen area. Lydia handed him a tray and set to work on fixing herself another grandmaster salad, a Caesar one today, crispy chicken and a fruit salad with a few pita wedges, while also working on Stiles’ own lunch. He wasn’t sure how this unspoken agreement between them manifested from his first day of school, but earlier that morning the teen slipped Stiles another twenty and shoot him dirty look each time he tried to protest. It was easier to just let Lydia get her way and in the back of his mind, he kept a lump amount of how much she was giving him so that way, someday, he could return the favor and pay her back. Two weeks in this school meant forty dollars.

 

She worked wordlessly as she layered the sandwich with tuna salad, provolone cheese, lettuce, green peppers, spinach and cucumbers. Stiles stomach gave an interested rumble, but the size of the sandwich was daunting. Possibly the biggest sandwich he’s ever seen, let alone had the privilege of sinking his teeth into. Grabbing another bag of Doritos, Cool Ranch today, an apple and a banana, she nudged him down to the large refrigerator to grab them a set of cokes. She paid and left the kitchen in a flourish of Lydia sass, commenting how she’d save him a seat at the table.

 

Sighing, Stiles eyed one of the brownies on the platter that made his stomach growl loudly. As far as school lunches went, this school was by far the best smelling and aesthetically appealing. In short, it didn’t look like they scraped it out of the bottom of a hazmat bin and slapped it on a Styrofoam plate (read: his last two schools). Slipping one onto his tray, he handed over the ten-dollar bill left over from the week before and waited for his eight dollar’s in change before slipping out and taking his coveted seat between Lydia and Cora. Stiles and Lydia kept their eyes on their lunches, tucking into it respectively and taking a bite. The only acknowledgement that Stiles received from her was the girl slipping her hand into his under the table, offering a small squeeze. About him, the rest of their group continued to talk about the insane game from last Friday, how one of the other players punched Jackson on the field and got carded, how earlier in the game the medic’s had to take someone out of the stadium from an injury of some kind, but most of all how easy it was for them to win.

 

Stiles and Lydia refused to talk about Friday, the teen next to him only offering small comments on the game here and there but never once did she mention the mess she found Stiles in. He had a weak moment in front of her as she ushered him out of the stadium, braking down in the front seat of her car and having one of his more sever panic attacks he’s ever had. It baffled him how she knew almost immediately what to do but it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did; this was Lydia for crying out loud! She drove him home, blessed his forehead with a soft kiss and watched him disappear around the back of the house before driving away, probably back to the school so she could meet up with Jackson. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t talk about the bloodied lip or the marks on his hands, and for that Stiles was eternally grateful.

 

“So Stiles,” Scott started with a lazy look on his face. “I heard you met Derek.”

 

Freezing mid bite, he glanced up to see Scott starring expectantly at him. Putting his sandwich back down on his plate, suddenly losing his appetite, he leaned back and nodded. “Yeah…” Pulling his hand from Lydia’s, he wrung them tightly together in his lap willing away the memories of nearly getting arrested, the memories of Friday still haunting him. If he had gotten arrested, if Cora’s and Isaac’s older brother hadn’t stopped to ask what Stiles was doing, be patient and wait for him to work through his trauma, Stiles didn’t want to think of the consequences when his uncle would have to come post bail.  

 

“When did you meet Derek?” Danny leaned around Isaac to get a good look at Stiles. He popped a few grapes into his mouth.

 

“Were you at the game Friday?” Jackson wondered out loud. “I didn’t see you.” He gasped suddenly from Lydia elbowing him in the side. He threw her a look, wondering what he did to deserve the jab, his hand coming up to rub lightly at the sore spot.

 

When Stiles only mutely nodded, Cora sighed and rearranged his hands in his lap so one of her own could smooth over the sore splits in his knuckles. It was strange, but every time she touched him the ache in his hands seemed to disappear. “He got to meet Laura too.” Allison nodded, offering a small smile to the teen sitting diagonally from him. Cora leaned into his side to rest her head on his shoulder, snuggling close and hating the way he involuntarily would pull away.

 

“The older Hale siblings are cool,” Scott stuffed another bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “Did you know that Derek’s a cop?” Not bothering to chew before speaking, it was a wonder anyone at the table was able to understand the teen. Choking, Scott relied on the gentle pats on the back from Isaac until he coughed up everything in his mouth onto his plate.

 

“Eww!” Lydia cried as she recoiled back into Jackson’s side when a piece of food from Scott’s mouth landed on her tray.

 

“Scott!” Allison scolded with a fiery look to Isaac who was still trying to help him out.

Danny, Jackson and Cora were laughing hysterically at Scott’s own folly. Stiles winced as he stared at the half chewed piece of food that lay harmless on Scott’s plate, the mound rolled onto its side making Lydia cringe next to him. His face felt funny for a moment and a bark of something bubbled out of him. A laugh, his brain supplied for him. That was a smile. Cora smiled and moved back to her lunch and if her body was positioned a little closer on the bench to Stiles’, neither teen was going to say anything. Lydia fit her hand back into Stiles and went back to her lunch once Jackson wiped away Scott’s piece of food on her tray with a napkin. The scrawny teen’s appetite returned. Lydia smiled.

 

Stiles was surprised when he took the final bite of his tuna sandwich, the entire thing now gone and resting happily in his distended stomach. Slumping back his free hand absently came up to rub at the light bulge in his abdomen. Without a shirt on, Stiles knew what he looked like, knew he could count each of his ribs, trace the outline of his sternum, and see the sharp indentations of his hips. His back was just as bad, the knobs of his vertebrae visible from under his skin and his shoulder blades pressing painfully against thin skin. Though having a steady lunch for the last week, and even a few snacking items for later in the evening when he could sneak some items home, he knew he was starting to put some weight back onto his skinny body, his insides starving for nutrition that now that he was getting something regularly he was starting to retain some weight. His body was holding anything and everything he was putting into it.

 

“Someone was hungry,” Jackson smiled. He leaned around Lydia to eye the empty paper pate that used to hold the teen’s sandwich and watched Stiles use his finger to scrape a glob of tuna from the tray. His blue eyes tracked the movement, watching as Stiles stuck his index finger in his mouth to suck the glob from the tip.

 

Blushing once he realized what he did, the blatant show he put on for Jackson catching Lydia’s amused attention, Stiles dropped his hands to his lap and shrugged. He eyed the brownie but wasn’t sure he had enough room in his stomach to fit the chocolaty treat without feeling like he’d throw up. Huffing in annoyance, knowing he couldn’t fit the brownie safely into his stomach, Stiles settled against Cora who was now leaning heavily into his side.

 

“Hush you,” Lydia swatted at the blonde. “He can eat as much as he wants.”

 

“I was just commenting that’s the most I’ve seen him eat.” Jackson defended before turning to Danny to discuss arrangements for transportation for their group of friends for the upcoming game on Friday that was an away game at North High School.  

 

“You should eat more though, Stiles.” Isaac took a bite of his fourth piece of pizza and took a moment to chew before he continued. “Are you sick or something? Is that why you don’t eat a lot?” Isaac caught Cora’s heated glare from over Stiles’ shoulder and sunk into his seat, instantly knowing he’d messed up. Scott and Jackson looked on in wonder, waiting for the answer for the one thing they could all smell at the table.

 

The bell rang, and everyone reluctantly stood up without waiting to hear an answer, as if leaving before Stiles could respond would change the meaning of the putrid smell wafting from his pores. Pretending to fidget with something in his pocket so he was the last to get up, Stiles swiped the sandwich bag left in Cora’s place to neatly seal his brownie inside. He’d hide it in his locker and take it home for later to eat, along with the bag of Doritos and the two pieces of fruit. The coke he would keep with him the rest of the day, knowing from experience that it tasted better chilled and not room temperature warm.

 

Dumping his trash, he headed towards his locker to see Lydia and Jackson waiting patiently for him while exchanging lazy smooches. Jacksons hands were inappropriately placed on her body for a school setting, traveling down the length of her body, hand brushing innocently across her lower back, and his fingers dipping briefly under the hem of her skirt to feel her soft skin. Swapping his items as quickly as he could, he turned to smile at them and head towards Government class, hoping that the blush creeping up his neck would go unnoticed by their blatant display. Sitting at their usual table in the back, Stiles leaned forwards so the both of them could hear him clearly while they dug around in their bags to pull out pens, paper and the weekend’s homework.

 

“I’m not, you know.” Both Lydia and Jackson froze. Sitting back in his seat he reached into his bag for his homework with a small smile playing on his face. They had the wrong assumption, but still cared enough to take care of him either way. Class started without a hitch, their teacher coming around to collect the packets and head back to her desk to carry on with their lecture on the American Justice System.

 

Jackson appeared to fidget, his fingers uncharacteristically tapping against the desk and his foot bouncing under the surface of his desk. His fingers reached for a blank sheet of paper in the back of his spiral notebook and ripped off a corner. Lydia watched him scrawl something neatly before pushing it across the desks to sit under Stiles’ nose. The teen reached out and read the note discretely so their teacher wouldn’t notice.

 

Unfolding the flaps his eye scanned the two words written neatly on the note. Smiling, he slipped the note into the back of his notebook to hang onto for later. Focusing through the rest of class, Stiles couldn’t wipe the smile from his face for the rest of the class, the rest of the day, the words ruminating in his head while giving him the warm-and-fuzzies in his tummy.

 

_I’m glad_

~*~*~

 

His idea of an easy evening was safely sitting in his room doing his homework while his Uncle Mike was working his 24 at the station, not due home to well after he would be at school the following day. His idea of an easy evening wasn’t piled around the large family room television smashed between Lydia and Cora on the couch watching re-run’s of South Park on TV while eating pizza, chips, pop and cookies. While it was fun, the most socialization he’d had outside of school since he could remember, he knew he would have to get home soon. But his body was relaxed, pliant on the couch cushions of the ridiculously large couch that extended from almost one end of the large rug in the center to the other, making an angle to carry on along the side and the other end with a connected foot rest. Cora’s legs rested on the ottoman, her thigh brushing his body.

 

Lydia was curled around Jackson, Stiles curled around her, everyone’s eyes glued to the television with Isaac and Scott in the kitchen piling more chips a mile high on their plates with a large dollop of dip. It was comfortable, the laziness of the evening curled around each other. Danny and Allison had other plans that evening; Allison had a family thing where as Danny was busy working the evening shift at the local Hollister store a couple of towns over at the large shopping center. With all of his new friends surrounding him, making him feel safe, warm and so relaxed he felt that he could fall asleep. It was nice to act like a normal teenager for once.

 

A few times, Talia Hale—Cora’s and Isaac’s gorgeous mom—would wander by and throw a weird look over at Stiles before her face would smooth over into a warm smile that Stiles fondly remembered from somewhere deep in his youth. The first time he caught that soft smile earlier that evening when he first arrived, the teen wasn’t prepared for his breath to catch, snag somewhere inside his throat and choke him with the sad memory of the woman who always had a fresh baked cookie for him every Monday when he came home from school. The memory hit him so fast it felt like a freight train had just slammed into his chest, pinning him to the wall with enough force to force the air from his lungs. Lydia did her usual thing, offering a comforting touch by working her fingers into the back of his neck before he had time to peel himself from the island in the kitchen to land against the wall, effectively calming him instantly. Nearly three hours later, Stiles was used to the look and found himself smiling under the warmth of it.

 

Jerking his eyes open just as he was about to fall asleep to Cora’s gentle petting, her fingers carding through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp wonderfully massaging the tense muscles beneath, Stiles’ eyes carefully tracked the surroundings in the room in search of a clock. He didn’t remember when his body had been manipulated from being curled around Lydia to snuggling into Cora’s side, but with her nails scraping against his head, fingers curling into the slightly longer hair he’d been trying to grow out since Lydia commented that she thought he’d look dashing, he really couldn’t care how he moved but that he really didn’t want the scratching to stop. Scrunching his nose and he squeezed his eyes shut, he wanted to make a noise of disapproval at Cora’s soft coo but found he had no energy to care. He was warm and so relaxed that if his eyes hadn’t noticed that it was past ten in the evening he would have drifted off to sleep.

 

Jerking up into an upright, sitting position he winced at the sudden change in elevation that made his eyes swim for a moment. Cora startled and Lydia turned to gaze in wonder at him for a long moment. Jackson’s eyes tracked his jerky movements while the two on the floor rolled to avoid Stiles feet coming to rest on the hardwood flooring, his body creating enough momentum to haul his weight from the couch to move towards the door.

 

“I have to leave; I still have some homework to finish up before class tomorrow.” He stood up tall to stretch, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck where a crick was forming from the angle he was dozing at. He hoped they’d understand that he wanted to stay, he honest to God didn’t want to leave but if he didn’t finish his homework and get into bed he was going to be in deep shit the following day. Lydia was the first to look at the time and stood with the same amount of energy that Stiles did.

 

“I’ll drive you,” she said simply. Reaching out for Jackson’s key’s resting on the end table, she shook her head at her boyfriend. Leaning down to kiss him briefly, she muttered softly that he could stay to finish the episode and that she’d be back soon to have them return to his house. They had special plans for later that evening anyways…

 

While Lydia looked at him with a disapproving look, noting how Stiles didn’t have a jacket to slip on before heading out into the chill she quickly moved to the driver’s side door to hop in and turn the heat on. Stiles didn’t seem chilled, but any prolonged exposure would surely settle a cold in his bones that he couldn’t afford to get. While she fussed with the dials, turning Jackson’s rock station to something with a sad melody and a powerful female vocalist, nothing Stiles’ brain immediately recognized, he turned with a shy smile on his face towards her. “Thanks Lyds,” her returning smile was worth it. “I appreciate the ride.”

 

“As if I’d let you walk home twenty or so miles to the outskirts of town.” She huffed annoyed. “You live by the preserve, it’d take you hours to walk home.” He shrugged weakly, still smiling and clearly thankful that he didn’t have to. “Plus, no jacket!” Stiles held up his hoodie sleeve, thinking that it was pacify her and her ongoing rant on his lack of appropriate clothes he got almost daily. “No, that hoodie is paper thin and would do nothing to retain body heat. I see you in school! You shiver coming into school in the mornings.”

 

“Well it’s all I have, Lyds. We really don’t have the money right now to get me new clothes.” A truth and a lie; he hated lying to Lydia. He hated lying period but especially to his new friends as they always seemed to have this sixth sense to know when he was stretching the truth. He’d gotten good over the years in schooling his features to remain neutral to fool the cops, nurses and questioning teachers, but most of his friends would tip their head to the side and look at him with this sad expression. The only two who didn’t was Lydia and Allison, but the two girls had other ways of showing they knew he was lying. Allison would bite her lip and Lydia would usually call him on his shit.

 

Leaning back into the seat of Jackson’s insanely expensive car, Stiles allowed his hand to come up and rest on his distended stomach. His stomach so full of the delicious homemade pizza Mrs. Hale made for them and all the other delicious treats that his stomach walls were pushing against his skin and making him have a light bump in his stomach. It was painful and something Isaac called a food baby, but was assured it would go away once he digested everything. He was positive he wouldn’t need to eat for a month after everything he just consumed.

 

“You should hang out with us more often, you’re fun Stiles.”

 

“I thought I do hang out with you guys?”

 

“At school you do, but you should also come over more often for more pizza-television fun.” Pulling into the driveway, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief to see no cars parked in the drive. “Your uncle working tonight?”

 

“Yeah, he doesn’t get off until 0700.” Reaching into his pocket for his keys, Stiles rested his hand on the door handle and turned back to Lydia when she rested her hand on his knee.

 

“Don’t you get lonely all by yourself?” He wanted to laugh in her face, days like this were his saving grace and were the days that he could relax and not have to worry about much. It was easy to forget everything when his uncle wasn’t around to constantly remind him of what a little shit he really was. He wondered when his new friends would see it too, wondered when they would finally drop him for someone who was worth the space.

 

“Nah, I like the quiet.” He smiled to reassure her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Accepting a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he blinked in surprise and prayed that Jackson wouldn’t be brassed that his girlfriend had kissed him there. “Night Lydia,” he called while climbing out and jogging up the drive to disappear around the back.

 

He waited until the car lights disappeared into the night, blanketing his yard in a cloak of darkness, until he fiddled with his keys to try and figure out which one was the right key to fit into the back door. Why he waited, he didn’t know, but he hated himself for it now because a low growl that caught his attention. It sounded smaller than a bear, but bigger than the average house pet, and held a hint of more danger. Dropping his keys, his eyes scanned around his surroundings looking for the critter that made its way off the preserve and into the residential area encroaching on the wooded territory.

 

The growl turned into a loud rumble, coming from a completely different direction than it had originally come from. It didn’t sound like a mountain lion, but more like that of an incredibly territorial dog, a wolf his brain supplied fearfully. His heart pounded, he couldn’t find his keys and the snarling was getting closer. Chancing a quick glance behind him, Stiles suddenly wish he hadn’t because of the glowing set of red eyes starring him down and waiting for him to make a run for it. He could barely make out the outline of the beast, but whatever it was, it was large. Pointed ears, a long, thick tail swishing back and forth feeling the movement of the air around them, and a long snout with an incredible set of sharp fangs bared for Stiles terror to run with. This animal was going to annihilate him if he didn’t do something soon. If he stayed still, it would be easier for the critter to maul him, if he ran, he’d activate the angry predators prey drive and he’d be run into the ground before being mangled; damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

 

His sneakers pounded against the old pavement of their driveway, tearing down into the street with the beast hot on his trail. He wasn’t going to make it far, the animals snapping jaws were right on his heels, but he’d be damned if he made it easy for the animal to just have him. He’d fight this for as long as he could, refusing to be victimized by this too. Vaulting over some trashcans, making sure to tip them as he went, a triumphant smile graced his face at the resonating metallic thwack the wolf made with the metal cans. A few lights turned on from the houses that he ran by, it was nearing midnight and this was usually a very quiet area of town; all this noise was sure to attract someone’s merciful attention. But when a sudden spotlight flooded his vision, Stiles skidded to a halt.

 

Falling to the ground, his legs and lungs crying in agony from the sudden exertion, he was surprised to feel a pair of hands on him trying to hold him down instead of a pair of claws and snapping jaws. “Hey, its okay, you’re okay! Calm down, kid.”

 

Jerking from his terror, Stiles starred up into the worried face of Officer Hale—Derek, his brain supplied—and finally relaxed enough for the officer to ease his stressed body down onto the ground. He let the guy move his arms around, positioning them over his head to ease his heaving chest and allow the air to pass more freely from the air into his body, something he was greatly appreciative of. “Officer Hale,” he wheezed while trying to calm his body enough to warn the officer of the large beast barreling down the street after him. “The wolf—“

 

“That’s what you were running from?” He scrunched his nose, making a face for some reason, eyes darkening in what appeared to be anger. His head swiveled around looking for any obvious threat and when he found none he looked down at Stiles with a soft expression. “How you doing? You want me to call your uncle to come check you over?”

 

“No!” Stiles heart rate and breathing had slowed considerably but at the mention of his uncle his nerves spiked, drawing the officer’s full attention back to him. Sitting up quickly, he tried to push Derek away but the guy was like an immovable force, unmoving under Stiles weak protests. The teen’s hands tightly gripped his uniform shirt, seeking out the stability of his duty vest underneath, and curling his fingers so his body could argue with itself on whether to push the officer away, or draw the safety his body provided closer. Derek’s hands came out to steady the teen, strong fingers curling around the teen’s bony hands to unhook Stiles’ claw like fingers from his person.  

 

“It’s okay, you’re fine Stiles.” Startled by the officer holding him close, Stiles found himself drawn to the incredible heat the officer’s body seemed to radiate, curling into the warmth and savoring it as his body shook from the creeping cold coming over his skin. Lydia was right; this flimsy hoodie did nothing to shield him from the night chill that blanketed the town. Derek hugged him close before standing, steadying the teen on his feet before leading him to the passenger’s side of his patrol vehicle, arms carefully placed over his small body to offer a crutch for Stiles to lean on, and the other to shield the teen from any unseen danger still in the area. Opening the Explorer’s door, he watched Stiles climb in before shutting it to come around to the driver’s side. The cabin of the SUV wasn’t nearly as warm as the officer, but it was better than being exposed to the cold outside.

 

His breathing had calmed considerably, respirations lowered back down to normal rates, welcoming adequate tidal volume to fill his lungs and thoroughly oxygenate his body. Settling into the curve of the seat, Stiles watched Officer Hale look around outside for the wild animal, his body still on edge but calming considerably now that the threat was no longer in sight. His eyes fearfully watched Derek scan the area, his green eyes seeking out the animal that had been chasing the teen for how far he wasn’t sure. Glancing around himself, Stiles realized he had no idea where he was or how far he had run or how to get back to a main road so he could get home. Almost as if sensing his discomfort, Derek turned a concerned eye to the teen resting in his patrol vehicle and shook his head, his hand lifting from the hilt of his sidearm to gesture out into the darkness past his flashing overhead lights.

 

Stiles silently watched Derek climb into the vehicle from the corner of his eyes, his gaze fixed down at his fingers that where playing with the frayed edge of his hoodie, all the while desperately trying not to look up at the officer with a lost expression. The wolf… giant dog… whatever it was just disappeared, leaving Stiles looking like the town loony who ran from his own shadow. Derek spoke into his radio, something that Stiles didn’t catch only because he was forcing himself to focus on the splitting string pulling out of his hoodie’s fabric.

 

“Stiles?” He called softly, stalling the teen’s fidgeting with just the calmness of his voice but only for a second as an uncontrollable tremor taking hold of his hands. “Stiles, hey, it’s okay. It’s alright, you’re fine now.” Reaching over Derek clasped his hands around Stiles’ own shaking ones.

 

Stiles jerked away from the touch, instantly hating himself for putting the hurt look on the officers face. Derek’s hands tightened, trapping his trembling fingers within his own to ground the nervous teen. “I swear it was there, it was right—“

 

“Stiles, I believe you. We had 9-1-1 calls for miles from neighbors informing us of a kid being chased by a wild animal.”

 

“Miles?”

 

“Where do you live, Stiles?” Stiles mumbled his reply and kicked out his legs. His muscles were suddenly feeling really tight, almost cramping with the gentle movements.

 

“Stiles, that’s five miles away from here. What do you say I get you back home?”  

 

They drove in silence, the only sound drifting through the cabin of the SUV was Derek’s radio, the other officer’s chattering on air and even a medical emergency coming over on the fire channel calling his uncle and the rest of his crew out into the field for a 55 year old male with chest pain. He caught himself drifting in and out, his stomach upset from running with so much food sitting in it, his muscles protesting from the exertion and his body just craving for the lumpy horizontal plane of his bed. Kicking his feet out again, trying to stretch out his cramping muscles in his quadriceps, he started fidgeting uncontrollably. Toes wiggling, heels bouncing, fingers twitching and his eyes blinking at a faster than usual rate all the while he could feel Derek’s own irritation growing within the officer’s body. This usually happened when his stress levels touched astronomical levels, shooting straight up through the stratus sphere and into orbit, and so far the only space oddity that had been able to tolerate his jittery behavior was somewhere in Beacon Hills curling up with Jackson doing God knows what.

 

Derek’s hand shot out again, reaching out to grab at Stiles’ own twitching ones, and while only managing to wrangle one into his grasp he knew he had the teen’s attention. He smiled in the boy’s direction, a weak little half lift of the corner of his mouth. “Stiles, you’re okay.”

 

But he wasn’t okay, he was out of the house and it was nearly midnight! He desperately wished Derek would shove his foot down on the accelerator just so he could get home and into the safety of his house, locked behind closed doors. His fidgeting settled but there was still the stirring itch beneath his skin trying to claw itself out. He needed to get home, he needed his medication before the itch became too much and a panic attack wrecked his body, throwing his conscious into an oblivion. He hated them, the panic attacks, because the darkness in the recess of them always managed to swallow him whole, suffocating him in the nothingness and forcing him deeper in the abyss. He was so fucking lonely that it hurt every waking moment he wasn’t surrounded by the new found friends he’d somehow made in Beacon Hills, and Derek’s fortified presence so close was doing something to his insides, loosening the twisting knots and making him feel as if he could breathe again. Taking a deep, calming breath he let it out in a long huff and felt somewhat better, but not really at the same time.

 

“I just need some time to settle,” he responded softly as he jerked involuntarily from Derek’s gentle grasp. His hands sought out the string again that seemed to multiply every time his twitching fingers touched and played with the string. He needed something to occupy his hands.

 

The officer’s face pulled into a soft smile. “If you keep playing with that, there will be nothing left of your hoodie.” Derek commented fondly. His smile grew when Stiles clamped his hands over the absent front pocket. From the looks of the rest of the hoodie, the random holes near the seams, loose strings, and the rips along the sleeves, the old sweatshirt had all but had it. It smelled of Stiles, but not the way the officer had expected it to smell. The absent garbage scent wasn’t there but instead was Stiles’ unique, sickly smell that always seemed to permeate the air and make the wolf inside him whimper, reminding him that there was just something not right about this boy.

 

Pulling into the teen’s driveway, a small glint caught their eyes. The brunette’s keys were lying in the driveway in the same place he dropped them earlier. Shivering at the thought of getting out into the cold, getting out of the warmth of Derek’s cruiser, Stiles paused in his movement to get out and settled back against the seat. “Thank you,” he whispered hating how small his voice sounded.

 

“Here,” Derek reached behind Stiles’ seat for something. The teen twisted and watched Derek pull free a black fleece jacket. Curious as to what Derek was doing, Stiles silently watched him get out and walk around his truck to open Stiles’ door. Wrapping the jacket around the teen’s narrow shoulders, Derek smoothed his hands down the teen’s long arms, warming his body with just a simple touch. Blinking in confusion, his eyes traveled down to look at the warm jacket enveloping his lithe frame. His eyes stayed on the stitched on departmental badge—Beacon Hills Police Department—where on the other side the officers name was stitched into the fabric; Ofc. D. J. Hale. “It’s a little big, but it’ll keep you warm.” The wolf bristled at the sight of his jacket on the teen, a subtle marking the brunette as his, as pack.

 

Stiles stiffened, his hands instantly coming up to try and push the jacket off his shoulders. Derek’s own met his half way, gently coaxing the material back over his body.

 

“Officer—“

 

“You can call me Derek, Stiles.” Stiles blinked in confusion.

 

“Derek,” if felt weird saying his first name; a good weird. “Derek, I can’t take your jacket.”

 

“Yes, you can.” Fitting Stiles’ fast moving hands into the sleeves and manipulating his wrists through the cuff’s the officer smiled down at his handiwork before zipping up the incredibly warm fleece. He hardly wore the thing, he was warm all the time and that jacket only made him sweat. Besides, it looked a lot better on Stiles even if it was a few sizes too big.

 

“But—“

 

He couldn’t help himself, touching the teen and running his hands over his arms, scent marking him through touch. He was practically pack already, something that took years to accomplish for humans seemed to happen almost overnight for the teen as his beta’s appeared readily willing to accept him into their ranks. Whether he knew it or not, Stiles was one of them and the jacket only reinforced his thoughts. Peeling his hands off of Stiles, reminding himself that he was here in an official capacity, that the stench hanging in the air of an unknown wolf had just sought out an attacked a human was priority number one compared to scent marking the teenager. “It’s fine, I don’t want to see you get sick.”

 

“Thank you, Derek.” Sliding out of the cruisers’ passengers seat, Stiles followed Derek up his drive to retrieve his keys while softly telling the officer what happened once Lydia dropped him off. Derek made a few humming comments while reaching down to swipe the keys off the cracked pavement. Turning, he deposited the set into Stiles offered palm.

 

“You going to be okay?” Stiles jerkily nodded while taking a few hasty steps backwards towards the stairs at the back of the house that lead to the back door, and into the kitchen. Derek noticed the twitching had returned, the boy’s hands trembling under the weight of the keys made the shaking that much more obvious. Derek didn’t believe him for one second that he was going to be okay but had no choice but to trust Stiles on this because something was causing the uncertainness and the officer had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the chase he’d just been in. “Have a good night, Stiles.”

 

The teen watched Derek get back into the driver’s seat and roll out of his driveway, offering one last wave towards him. “Bye Derek,” he whispered once the BHPD vehicle started cruising down the street. Glancing up, he inwardly groaned at the watchful eye of his nosey neighbor peeking through her kitchen window, watching the whole exchange and no doubt the incident with the overly large dog too. There was no doubt she was going to be talking with his uncle about this; his involvement with the police was surely going to be a thing that popped up in their next conversation as they passed one another picking up the morning paper at the end of the driveway. His body already started aching at the thought of how upset his uncle was going to be with him.

 

Retreating to the safety of his room, the teen carefully hid the officer’s jacket in his closet and changed into an old pair of sweats that were actually a size too small for him. The cuffs of his pant legs came up to about four inches above his ankle and the material hugged his limbs like a second skin. They were uncomfortable but were all he had. Not bothering with a shower, opting to take a quick one in the morning, Stiles lay down and promptly fell asleep.

 

~*~*~

 

His bike was trashed. The bars were bent, the tires were slashed and the seat was chewed beyond all recognition. He’d found it left at a park a year ago and now he didn’t have anything to get him to school because a wild animal decided to use it as a chew toy. That’s how he found himself walking along the sidewalk in the early morning cold hugging Derek’s jacket tight around his body. Not that he wanted to wear the officers jacket and risk it getting ruined, but the temperature that morning was so cold that it woke him from a dead sleep. His breath came out in visible puffs and his hands were numb to the touch. Class started in fifteen minutes and he still had a lot more walking to do; not only was he going to get in trouble over last night, but being late for school and not having his homework completed.

 

He was so dead…

 

“Hey, Stiles!” Jerking out of his thoughts of demise, Stiles turned to the red Ford, Ranger that pulled up alongside of him and noticed Scott sitting in the driver’s seat. “Need a lift?”

 

Climbing in, he quickly put his seat belt on and gave a grateful look towards the other teen. “Thanks, Scott.”

 

“No problem m—“the teen’s eyes starred openly at Stiles’ jacket. His nostrils flared for a moment until a smile broke out over his face. “You run into Derek last night? I thought Lydia dropped you off.” Scott made a fast turn onto the main road and dropped his foot down heavily on the gas pedal. Stiles hoped they wouldn’t get pulled over; he really didn’t need to get into any more trouble today.

 

“I had the worst night,” he groaned. “After Lydia dropped me off, this huge wolf chased me five miles from the house.” Stuffing his hands into the warm fleece pockets, Stiles ducked his chin so his nose was burring the in zipped up collar.

 

Scott stiffened, his hand controlling the steering column of his truck balled into a white knuckled fist. “Did it hurt you?” Stiles shook his head. “It didn’t bite you?” Despite his reassurance, Scott still looked on edge about the whole situation, eyes occasionally leaving the road to inspect the other teens body.

 

“No, somehow I outran it. Derek said that the station was getting a bunch of calls from neighbors that there was a wild animal chasing some kid. I guess we made enough noise to draw attention because if he hadn’t showed up I think I might be puppy-chow.” Scott remained silent. His posture loosened as he pulled into a parking space but Stiles could still see the worry on the other teen’s face. Getting out, they both started making their way into the school, walking silently side by side with Scott every so often brushing against his arm or reaching out to pat him on the shoulder.

 

“Just be careful,” Scott commented once they passed through the double doors. Stiles nodded and awkwardly accepted a hug from the teen. He could feel a few people starring at them even after Scott pulled away, probably just as bewildered as he was when the floppy haired teen rubbed his cheek into Stiles cropped hair. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed.

 

“Save you a seat.” Stiles smiled and turned to head towards his locker with just five minutes to get to class. A few paces away he heard Scott call out to him again. “Nice jacket!” Turning with a smile on his face, he waved at the dopey haired teen. A small laugh escaped his mouth making him think that maybe everything was going to be okay.

 

Somehow…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm horrible at updating when I say I will.


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